


Greedy

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Begging, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, M/M, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the kink meme. Everyone thinks Combeferre is an innocent virgin. Except Bahorel and Feuilly. Bahorel and Feuilly know well how much Combeferre likes sucking cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greedy

"Do you know, my good doctor, they think you as chaste as our fearless leader?" Bahorel purred in Combeferre’s ear, and he let out choked sounds, his eyes tightly closed behind his spectacles, 

"Answer the man, you charming little thing: don’t be rude now." Feuilly scolded lightly, slapping the other man’s thigh in a reproachful fashion. 

"Yes, by God, yes, I know-" Combeferre managed to bite out the words as Feuilly fucked a fourth finger into him, and dear God, whenever Combeferre moved, he could feel the bulge of Bahorel’s cock against his lower back where the doctor was pinned in the boxer’s lap. 

His thighs were atop Bahorel’s, and Bahorel held them in place, spread apart, as Feuilly kneeled between both their spread legs, fucking his fingers forwards and scissoring them, and dear God, it was so  _good_. 

"Tell us what they think, Combeferre, let’s hear that eloquent little voice of yours." Bahorel purred, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t, because Bahorel had one hand still pinning him in place and the other was sliding up under his shirt and his vest. Combeferre was stripped of his trousers and stockings, left bare from the waist down so he was wearing only his shirt, and his cravat and his vest, and  _God_ , it was obscene. 

"They think I’m- I’m chaste, viriginial, think I’ve never lain with a woman in my life." Combeferre stuttered out, hips shifting as wildly as they could with Bahorel’s strong grip holding him in place, punctuating the occasional word with a sharp whine. "Think I’m- dear  _God_ , Feuilly-“

The working man had leaned to lick a wet stripe up the length of Combeferre’s cock, and God, he wanted to  _weep_  with how overwhelmed he was. Bahorel’s spare hand was teasing over one of his nipples, and fuck, it was sensitive, sending electric shocks and tingles all across his skin, and it was far too much.

"What are you really?" Feuilly prompted.

"A  _whore.”_  Bahorel growled in Combeferre’s ear, and the doctor gasped, grasping tightly at Bahorel behind him as he canted his hips up. “Just a hole for us to fuck, isn’t that right? Look at how  _open_  you are for our dear fellow’s fingers…”

And Feuilly had indeed worked him loose, and Combeferre was spread, clenching, around a good deal of his hand. “Please.” Combeferre whispered, and his cheeks were flushed, his neck even redder. “Dear God, fill me, take me, both of you, I need it, please-“

Feuilly gasped, mock scandalized. “Do you hear that, Bahorel? Suckling at my member as a babe at mother’s tit wasn’t enough for him! It would seem he needs more to be sated - a verifiable jezebel.” Combeferre cursed under his breath as Feuilly withdrew his fingers, leaving Combeferre empty and open and  _cold_ , and God, he loved these men, but he despised their teasing.

"Both of us, he says.  _Needs_  it, he says.” Bahorel purred, and Combeferre took in a wheezing whine when Bahorel put a rough hand to his cock, pulling at his balls and rolling them between heavy fingers. Combeferre bucked into the touch, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as they could go. “You think he could take us both?”

"Oh God."

"Mmm, you know, with more oil, I think he could manage it."

"Oh  _God_.”

"And I think it’ll be  _hot -_  the heat from his own body, but also from each other. We’ll need to be as wet as possible. Very tight he’ll be, of course, and it will perhaps be difficult to thrust, but it sounds an interesting endeavour.”

"Dear God above, fuck-"

"An  _experiment_ , if you will.”

“ _Please_ -“

"Yes, an experiment." Combeferre was struggling desperately now,  _craving_  it despite his lingering worries, and Bahorel let him go, suddenly enough that Combeferre stumbled forwards and was caught at the elbows by Feuilly’s calloused hands. 

"Come, come, my good doctor." Feuilly said softly, grinning as he led Combeferre back, onto the bed. Feuilly was naked where Combeferre was half-clothed, and Bahorel was, as of yet,  _tout habillé_. “Let me take care of that pretty little hole of yours.” 

He pulled Combeferre atop him, having the other man straddle his cock and lower himself down, and Combeferre groaned as he took it. He’d made to bare his neck, throw his head back, but Feuilly caught him by the hair and pulled him down so that their bodies were flush together, Feuilly’s naked chest against Combeferre’s vest and shirt, to kiss him on the mouth.

Combeferre couldn’t look back as Bahorel took off his own clothes and moved forwards, too focused on Feuilly’s skilful tongue and better lips to even  _think_ about the other man until he pressed two impossibly slick fingers inside Combeferre, against the length of Feuilly’s cock.

Combeferre choked out a strangled yelp against Feuilly’s mouth, trying to sit up, but Feuilly caught him by the upper arms, keeping him still. “God, God, God-“

"That’s it." Feuilly coaxed. "That’s it, you can take it." And Feuilly was  _always_ this gentle, even when he was being rough and throwing Combeferre around ( _just like the doctor loved_ ), he was tender, caring, careful, in a way Bahorel was not.

"You look fucking gorgeous." Of course, Bahorel was still more complimentary. He fucked a third finger into Combeferre, scissoring them, and God, that  _stretch_ was accompanied by a desperate ache for more. Bahorel leaned, biting at Combeferre’s ass as he continued, “Look absolutely  _sublime_ , something Prouvaire would write about in a fucking ditty.”

And God, what an awful thought. Combeferre wasn’t especially fond of the poems Jehan limned, preferring the clear, visual, easily-appreciated art Grantaire was capable of, but now was not truly the time to debate literature, as Combeferre had been told upon trying before.

Fuck, Combeferre lost the thought as Bahorel lined himself up and fucked himself forwards, his chest pressed tightly against Combeferre’s, and fuck, fuck, it was so  _much,_ and Combeferre felt far too fucking full. 

"Talk." Bahorel demanded, and dear God, it was not fair, it was not fair that they made him talk when he was flustered like this, when they knew he could barely access the most basic of his vocabulary, let alone the more complicated phrases Combeferre favoured in general conversation. 

"I- I can’t-"

"Oh, you can, my good doctor, you can." Feuilly purred against Combeferre’s mouth as Bahorel began to thrust, his movements slow and deliberate and  _superb_. How dare he sound so very composed? “Come, come, vociferate to us.” 

"Feel full." Combeferre managed, and every single one of his instincts was telling him to be quiet, to let sensation run right over him, to relax and cry out and be barely more than a muted  _brute_  for the time being. “I feel incredibly ov-ov-overstimulated, dear  _God_ , Bahorel-” Combeferre cried out, and Bahorel picked up a rhythm, fucking deep and slow, and Combeferre felt like he was getting torn in  _two_ , and even with that idea it was the best fucking feeling he’d ever taken experience of

Bahorel came first, and when he had, he pulled back, stroking over Combeferre’s back as Feuilly fucked up and into him, and when the working man had come as well, he felt  _flooded_  with it, shivering on top of Feuilly.

Feuilly eased him away, and both of them pressed at Combeferre’ either side, thoroughly sandwiching the doctor between their warm bodies, and peppering his aching flesh with affectionate kisses for the sake of hearing him laugh and try to throw them off. 

"You are ours." Bahorel murmured in his ear, and Feuilly hummed agreement.

"Ours." He said, and he put a hand in Combeferre’s hair, gently removing his spectacles and setting them aside.

"What  _would_  my mother say?” Combeferre asked in a whisper, and Bahorel started with chuckles but was soon guffawing, and Feuilly was snorting awfully, trying to hide his face in his hands as Combeferre laughed outright.

"That you are greedy!" Bahorel proclaimed when he finally managed a moment’s sobriety, and that only set the three of them off again, louder, until Combeferre’s gut ached with mirth, and he was tired with it, giggling weakly against Feuilly’s shoulder.

"You are awful, both of you." Feuilly said, but his smile and his intonation were both affection. "Do you know, I think I rather love you both." 

And Combeferre beamed as Bahorel took on a contented little grin, and they settled into fond, comfortable silence, pressed together on the bed, and nothing more was said until they’d slept and dawn broke in the morning. 


End file.
